


A Good Kid

by kuragay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, POV Outsider, Peter Parker is a Mess, The relationship between May and the oc is temporary but it's nice while it lasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuragay/pseuds/kuragay
Summary: Ricky thinks that May's an exceptional woman, and he thinks that Peter's an exceptional kid. But there's no denying that the Parker household is full of mysteries, and most of them are centered around Peter and his supposed internship with Tony Stark.-Or,Outsider POV of Peter Parker's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad life.





	A Good Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame happened but Tony's fine, somehow. Don't ask questions.
> 
> FFH also happened, but Beck wasn't as much of a bitch and didn't reveal Peter's identity.
> 
> Edit: unintentionally inspired by OnceUponaFangirl's amazing [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377760/chapters/46107574?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_246008062)!

Ricky thinks that May’s an extraordinary woman. They meet in November when he accidentally backs into her car outside of St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital (he’s with his niece who was there for a sprained ankle, and May had just finished her shift), and upon observing no dents to her vehicle, he invites her to coffee anyway to make up for it. He expects her to politely decline, but to his surprise, she smiles and agrees.

They get coffee on a S aturday morning, he asks to see her again, and then another date becomes two more dates, becomes three, becomes six, becomes ten, and then the next thing he knows, three months have passed and he’s being invited to her apartment to meet her kid.

“He’s a great kid,” she says, and Ricky tries to calm his heartbeat, wondering if this is thing that’ll break their relationship. God, what if the kid doesn’t like him? Ricky knows it’s over if that happens. “His name is Peter,” May continues, her eyes going soft, “and he’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet.”

“He gets it from you, then,” Ricky manages to get out, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. He tries for a smile, and he thinks it works when May beams in return.

“Oh no, trust me, he’s something else. He’s the best thing to happen to me.” She takes Ricky’s hands, ignoring how clammy they are, and looks him the eyes. “Just be yourself and he’ll love you.”

Ricky doesn’t know if he believes her, but he swallows the lump in his throat and agrees. He really, really likes May, and he hopes he doesn’t screw this up.

-

Immediately after May opens the door to her home, Ricky sees a teenager curled up on the couch, a blanket strewn over his shoulders as he chats away with someone through his laptop. 

“Pete,” May calls, capturing his attention. “Ricky’s here.”

Peter looks up and catches Ricky’s eyes, then turns back to his laptop. “I’ve got to go. Sorry,” he says to whoever’s on the other side of the screen.

The other person’s words aren’t comprehensible from this distance, but the voice and low and the intonation strangely familiar.

“See you tomorrow. Try to sleep tonight,” Peter replies to whatever the guy he’s video chatting with says, and then he shuts the laptop. He stands up, the blanket falling from him, and he shuffles over before sticking his hand out for Ricky to shake.

Ricky shakes it, surprised at the strength in such thin fingers. 

“Hi,” he says, almost shy. “I’m Peter.”

Peter looks gentle. He’s thin in a way only a teenager can be, his hair a pile of curls on his head, his eyes large on his freckled face. He looks younger than seventeen, which is his age, according to May.

The nerves still don’t dissipate though. If anything, they get stronger with the desire to impress. “Hi, Peter. I’m Ricky, and it’s, uh, really nice to meet you.” He looks at Peter, then looks at May, then swallows for the thirtieth time that day, his throat drying rapidly.

“Ricky’s a high school teacher,” May chimes in, saving him or maybe condemning him, he’s not sure. Do high school kids like high school teachers? “He’s super smart and super funny.”

Flushing, Ricky shakes his head. “Your aunt’s much funnier and much smarter. Being a nurse? That requires a lot of energy and skills.” And then, because he doesn’t know when to shut up, Ricky blurts out, “You’re aunt’s an extraordinary person.”

He thinks it’s over, he’s screwed it up. He’s laid it on too thick. But Peter only smiles, his eyes lighting up.

“You joining us for dinner?” he asks.

Ricky can only nod.

At dinner, they talk about Peter’s clubs, his school activities, his grades, and Ricky realizes that Peter’s really fucking smart. 

“You can build robots?” Ricky tries not to sound dramatically impressed, but it’s hard because that’s exactly what he is.

The tips of Peter’s ears redden, and he ducks his head, only lifting it again when May gently rubs his shoulders, her face proud.

“It’s nothing, really. Just a hobby.”

“A damn impressive hobby,” Ricky says. 

Conversation comes easier after that. Most of the nerves are gone by the time dinner ends, and after helping Peter clean some dishes while May sweeps the floor, she kisses him goodbye at the door.

“He likes you,” she says softly, and Ricky believes her.

“I like him too. He’s a good kid.”

She kisses him again, and Ricky thinks that they can make this work.

-

Ricky’s over at least once a week after that, and before he knows it, another month has passed, and he realizes that Peter’s still kind of a mystery.

The kid comes and goes at odd hours. He spends the weekend somewhere else. And sometimes he’s bruised like a peach with no other explanation other than, “School’s rough.”

When he brings up his concerns with May, she brushes it off.

“He has a Stark internship. That’s where he is on weekends. Honestly, it’s more like a mentorship.”

Ricky already knew about the internship (and still doesn’t really believe it even though he knows Peter’s capable. It’s just...does Stark Industries even accept high schoolers?), but it’s still strange. “What internship requires overnight stays?”

May only smiles. “That’s classified.” She says that a lot when it comes to Peter.

“What about the bruises?”

At that, May frowns, but then she shakes her head, her lips pursed. “He gets bullied sometimes. I’ve brought it up with the school, but they tend to brush it off, and Peter likes Midtown. He’s academically talented, and regular schools bore him to death. I--” she cuts herself off with a sigh, looking too distraught to continue, and Ricky’s gut festers with guilt.

“Can I do anything?” he asks, but she shakes her head.

“It’s best if you just drop it, I think.”

May would do anything for Peter. She would go to the ends of the earth for that kid, so it’s undeniably fishy that Ricky’s being asked to drop it. 

But he knows better than to analyze a family he’s still learning the pieces of, so he lets it go.

-

The first time Ricky stays the night, he wakes up at 2am to get a drink of water, and is surprised to find someone else in the kitchen.

Peter sits on the counter next to the sink, his legs dangling over the edge as he mechanically spoons cereal into his mouth.

“Peter,” Ricky says, and Peter startles, the bowl rattling in his hands before he steadies.

“Oh, ugh, Ricky. You’re up! I--” he breaks off, coughing, his cheeks pink, and puts the cereal down next to him. “Do you need anything?” 

“What are you doing up?” Is all Ricky can think to ask, eyes wide, and he’s suddenly achingly aware that he’s in nothing but a robe he slung on lazily to ward off the late winter chill.

Peter doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t seem to care that Ricky’s staying the night. Instead, he looks to the floor, and Ricky realizes that Peter’s trembling. 

“Peter?” Reaching forward, he touches a hand to Peter’s bare arms, exhaling when he feels how ice cold Peter’s skin is. “Jesus Christ. You’re freezing. Why are you not in bed?”

Peter shrugs, not looking up. “Couldn’t sleep.”

At a loss as to what to do, Ricky wonders if he should get May, but then before he can flesh out the thought properly, Peter starts to cry.

“Oh god,” Peter mutters, wiping roughly at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Ricky freezes for a good five seconds before he jumps into action. “Let’s get you off the counter,” he says, relieved when he gets a nod. He gently eases Peter off despite Peter’s protests that he can do it on his own, and helps him find his footing. “I’ll go get you a blanket. How’s about we move to the couch?”

Again, Peter nods, and Ricky rushes off to Peter’s room to fetch a thick blanket. When he returns, Peter’s already on the couch, curled up so tightly that Ricky’s heart suddenly aches at how small Peter is.

“Here.” He drapes the blanket over Peter’s shivering form, and it just about swallows him.

“Thanks,” Peter says.

“Do you want a hot drink?”

“No, this is fine.”

Ricky sits down next to Peter, the water he originally came out for forgotten, and he breathes deeply, unsure of how to continue. “Should I get May?”

“No, let her sleep.”

Ricky thinks that sometimes Peter might be too good.

“Why aren’t you sleeping right now?” Ricky tries, not expecting an answer, but Peter surprises him.

“Were you part of the snap?” 

It’s an abrupt, almost rude question, but Ricky rides out the shock waves easily. “Uh...yes.”

“Me too,” Peter admits, quiet. 

No one really talks about the snap or the blip. They’re some of the topics that the entire world has mutually agreed are better left not discussed with anyone but close family and therapists.

“Do you remember where you went in those five years?” Peter asks.

Ricky shakes his head. “Do you?” He doesn’t know how to be as gentle as May, but he’s trying. He just doesn’t know how helpful he’s being.

“Sometimes I get flashes, but that’s it.”

“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”

Peter somehow disappears even more under his blanket until only his fluffy hair and wide eyes are visible. “Sure,” he mutters.

Ricky doesn’t call him out on his lie. He just sits with him until the sun rises, then gets up to make coffee.

“Thank you,” Peter says, from his spot on the couch. “For staying awake with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was nothing. The adults in your life are here to support you.” It’s not hard to tell that Peter’s been hurt badly before. From what, Ricky’s not sure, but he wants to protect this kid. This kid, with trusting eyes and who May loves so dearly.

May wakes up to coffee, and to Peter and Ricky sitting next to each other at the table, and she smiles brightly, kissing Ricky on the cheek.

“I’m glad you two are getting along so well,” she says after Peter has gone to his room to get changed.

“Well,” Ricky takes a sip of his coffee, “Peter’s easy to get along with.”

-

Peter’s video chatting with someone again.

May has a night shift, and Ricky feels comfortable enough at this point to look after Peter for a night, and Peter doesn’t seem to mind either.

“I’m sorry,” Peter’s saying to whoever he’s chatting with as Ricky walks through the door, May already gone seeing as Ricky’s about half an hour late. “I was gonna go over tonight, but Ricky’s coming over to watch me.”

Ricky walks closer, able to hear at least the voice of whoever Peter’s talking to, and it’s the same deep, familiar voice that Peter was talking to the first time Ricky met him.

The voice says something, and Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I’ll introduce you two...eventually. No, I’m not replacing you, stop being so dramatic.”

The voice says something else, and Peter laughs. “Ok, ok. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” Peter ends his call then turns to Ricky, his good mood from his chat carrying over.

“Hey, Ricky.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was killer.”

“It’s fine.”

Ricky glances at the laptop, trying not to be nosey and failing, and finally gives in and asks, “Who were you calling?”

Peter only grins. “Just some old dude. Don’t worry about it.”

Ricky doesn’t really worry, but he can’t deny that he’s curious. But by now he’s accepted that the Parker household comes with mysteries. Like how Peter doesn’t really sleep, and how the mysterious person Peter’s calling sounds so darn familiar, and how Peter’s not home a lot of the times. 

Maybe one day Peter will trust him enough to tell him. For now, Ricky lets it go.

-

The shifting of the bed wakes Ricky up. He rolls over, eyes opening in slits just in time to catch May putting on her slippers.

“Shh, it’s late,” she whispers when she notices him looking. “Go back to bed.”

“Mmph,” Ricky groans, trying to blink the blurry spots away. “Why’re you awake?”

“Don’t worry. Go back to sleep.” She pecks him quickly on the lip, then shuts the door quietly behind her on her way out of the bedroom. 

Ricky lies on the bed for a while before he hears talking from Peter’s bedroom, hushed. But the old building has thin walls, and Peter’s bedroom is right next to May’s. Ricky can’t catch many words, but he can hear the noises they make, and it sounds like someone’s crying. Not gentle crying, but heartbreaking, hysterical sobbing.

It’s primarily concern that pulls Ricky from the bed. He slings his robe on then tiptoes gently to Peter’s room, knocking.

“Is everything okay?”

The voices stop, and May’s voice calls out, steady, “You should go to sleep, Ricky.”

But he can still hear sniffles, so he opens the door and shuts it behind him, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Keep the lights off,” May says. 

Ricky doesn’t touch the lights as he makes his way over to Peter’s bed, sitting down next to May. 

Peter’s sitting on the bed too, his head propped on May’s shoulder as she runs her fingers through his hair, whispering something softly.

Peter sniffles again, and suddenly Ricky’s aware that he’s intruding on a very private moment. “What’s wrong?” he says, guilty.

May only shakes her head. 

Peter’s hands come up to claw at May’s shirt, gripping it tightly, and May only leans forwards, letting him. 

“You’re at our apartment,” she says. “It’s almost 4am. Ricky and I are here. You had a nightmare. This is real.”

“Okay,” Peter says, voice breaking. “Okay.”

He doesn’t look up, and Ricky doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to call Tony?” May asks, voice softer than Ricky’s ever heard it. Peter doesn’t respond, but when May passes him his phone, he pulls away from her to dial a number.

Peter’s shaking, his eyes wide, and now that Ricky can see better, they’re clearly bloodshot.

“C’mon,” May says, standing up. “We should go.” 

Ricky swiftly follows her out of the room, only catching a quiet, “Hey, Tony,” coming from Peter before the door closes.

-

The mysterious Tony isn’t brought up the next day, and it only spurs Ricky’s curiosity. It’s someone Peter and May trust enough to call at 4am and to calm Peter down from...whatever that was. Nightmare? Panic attack? Flashback? Ricky doesn’t know, and he knows better than to ask. 

He is, however, concerned, and his concern on doubles with Peter doesn’t come home that night.

“It’s just for his internship,” May reassures, but it does little to quel Ricky’s worry.

“On a school night?”

“It’s honestly best not to question it at this point,” May says, face turned in guilt. “I’m really sorry Ricky. I bet you have all these questions that I never answer. It must be hard.”

“No! May, it’s fine.” And it is. Maybe someone else would need to know the details, but Ricky trusts that he’ll find things out when they’re comfortable with telling him. It’s clear that their lives have been difficult, and he would hate to add onto that. “As long as Peter’s safe.”

“I can promise you that he’s the safest he’ll ever get with who he’s with right now.”

So Ricky doesn’t bring up the mysterious Tony, even though he wants to, and he doesn’t ask questions about the supposed Stark Internship anymore.

-

It’s a couple days later when Ricky’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door slamming shut. He shoots up in May’s bed, blinking rapidly as he tries to calm his heartbeat from his rude awakening, and resigns himself to his fate.

It seems that the Parker household rarely has a quiet night.

Slowly, Ricky rises from the bed and tiptoes out of May’s room, grabbing a heavy lamp after a second of deliberation. Not to light his path, but to chuck at the intruder.

May has another night shift, and Peter had already gone to bed, so really, Ricky can’t be blamed for being a little cautious.

The rest of the house in quiet, barring the squeaks of someone’s shoes on the floor boards.

“Who’s there?” Ricky calls, voice shaking, and in retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t make himself known to a possible murderer. Too late now.

The squeaking stops, the intruder and Ricky both deathly still, and then, a breathless,

“Ricky?”

Ricky puts the stupid lamp down and rushes to turn on the lights, eyes assaulted by the sudden brightness. But that was Peter’s voice, and when his eyes acclimate, Ricky sees Peter listing to the side, grabbing the edge of the couch to steady himself as his other hand clutches his middle.

“Peter? Did you just come in the house?”

Peter eases himself onto the couch, groaning a little, and Ricky follows, his stomach scrambled in concern.

“Y-yeah,” Peter says, then accidentally jostles his body and bites his lip hard. “Shit.”

“You’re in pain.”

“It’s fine.”

Peter takes his hand away from his middle, and Ricky notices that his sweater is soaked in blood. Ricky pales, panic rising hot and fast in his throat, and he nearly throws up as peter tosses his sweater off, lifting up his undershirt to get a good look at the wound.

“Oh my god,” Ricky breathes, mouth dropping open.

The wound is bleeding freely, right by Peter’s left ribs, and as Ricky--against his common sense--gets closer, he thinks he can see bone. It’s the deepest wound Ricky has ever seen in his life as a high school teacher, and he has no idea why Peter’s not in the hospital, or how Peter even got it in the first place.

“You were, y-you were in bed. I, I…” Ricky trails off as Peter sits up to rummage in a little compartment under the couch that Ricky’s never noticed before, pulling out a huge first aid kit.

“I went out for a bit,” Peter said, wincing with each shift.

“Oh my god, you need a doctor.”

“I’m the doctor.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“For the next thirty minutes I am.”

Then Peter dumps rubbing alcohol all over the wound  _ (it looks like a stab wound, _ a tiny part of Ricky whispers), somehow not screaming, and starts pressing clean gauze to it.

“You, you need stitches,” Ricky pleads. “Please, Peter. Let me call an ambulance, and--” His throat closes as Peter takes out curved needle, thread, and something that looks like pliers.

“Getting to that,” Peter grunts, and then ties the needle and thread together neatly. Not even flinching, he digs the needle into his skin and begins suturing, his hands steady.

“Oh my god,” Ricky says for the third time, turning away when he feels his food rising.

“I’m really fine, Ricky,” Peter says, not looking up, body bent nearly in half so he can access the wound. “This is honestly not even that bad. Just a flesh wound.” 

Then he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like,  _ “Better than being hit by a train,”  _ and Ricky’s brain stops functioning at all.

“I...I…” Ricky tries before giving up, sitting listlessly on the couch next to Peter, his head slowly falling into his hands. 

And just when he thinks this is as crazy as it gets. Just when the very edge of his limits have been reached, there’s another knock on the door.

“Is that the person who stabbed you coming to finish you off?” Ricky says, lifting his head to stare off into the distance.

Peter rolls his eyes. “The person who stabbed me is stuck to a wall in an alley somewhere.”

“So you were stabbed,” RIcky says, the second half of the sentence too much for him to unpack.

Peter rolls his eyes again. “You should probably answer the door before he breaks it down.”

Ricky doesn’t ask who ‘he’ is, although when he gets up and walks the ten or so steps to the door, he realizes that maybe he should’ve.

Ricky opens the door, and Tony Stark walks into the apartment, baseball cap and sunglasses doing nothing to hide his appearance.

“Where’s Pete?” he asks in place of a greeting, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them away.

Ricky gapes, unsure of what to say. Somehow, Ricky didn’t make the connection between the mysterious Tony and Peter’s Stark internship, and now he feels like a top tier idiot. And the feeling only amplifies when he realizes that the person Peter’s video chatting with all the time sounds exactly like Tony Stark. So the Stark Internship is 100% real after all. Ricky should’ve known better than to doubt.

“Um,” Ricky finally remembers to respond. “He’s, uh, on the couch.” 

“Tony, you really didn’t have to come,” Peter says, his voice muffled form the way he’s biting the bottom of his shirt to raise it away from the gash as he ties the final knots on his sutures.

“Oh my god,” Ricky mutters, feeling faint. 

“Jesus Christ, Pete,” Tony Stark says, kneeling next to the couch to get a better look. 

Ricky doesn’t make it to the couch. He plonks down right where he is, his ass on the hard wooden floors, and wonders if he’s dreaming.

“Karen’s such a tattle tale,” Peter says (who’s Karen?), and Tony Starks only shakes his head.

“She tattles to keep you safe. You know that. But instead of getting me, you come up to your apartment to stitch yourself up, like a lil’ shit. And I have to take time out of my day to come all the way here, almost waking Madam Secretary up, by the way.”

Peter looks up from his finished, oddly neat, stitches, and raises an eyebrow at Tony Stark. “First of all, Morgan can sleep through the apocalypse. Second of all, it was a minor wound. ”

Ricky chokes, which prompts both of the other people in the room to look at him.

“This May’s new boyfriend?” Tony Stark asks, pointing at Ricky.

“Yup.” Peter pops the ‘P’ at the end, squirming on the couch, but stills when Tony’s hand presses down on his leg.

“Huh,” Is all Tony says in response before redirecting his attention to Peter, poking and prodding around to look for more wounds like a worried mother hen. “Pain?” 

“Like a five.”

“It was deep?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t keep creepy tabs on me. You already know that it was deep.”

Tony frowns, and then he’s gently tugging Peter into a better sitting position, and then to his feet. 

“C’mon,” he urges, helping Peter walk to the door, which is what gets Ricky shooting to his feet.

“Wait. Wait a second.” he scrambles forward, grabbing Tony’s arm without a second thought. “Where are you going?” He asks, and realizes that maybe he’s more protective of Peter than he thought.

Surprisingly, Tony doesn’t shake off Ricky’s arm right away. Instead, he lets Ricky remove it himself, then says, “To get this idiot proper medical attention,” pointing his thumb at Peter who looks strangely exasperated for someone just stabbed.

“Where are you taking him?” Ricky asks. 

“Avengers facility. The new one, not the rubbly one from a while back.” Then Tony and Peter both wince, as if the reminder of the destruction of the old Avenger’s compound is a sore spot.

“I...ugh...can I come. Just to make sure Peter’s okay...and…”

Tony looks like he’s about to open his mouth to say no, but then Peter’s tugging at Tony’s shirt sleeves, his eyes huge and watery, and he says, 

“Please, Tony? Can Ricky come? We can’t just leave him here to stew in his thoughts.”

And Tony Stark positively melts, his entire demeanor shifting as he gently presses a kiss to the top of Peter’s fluffy hair.

“Sure kid. You know damn well I can’t say no to you.”

Ricky looks at Tony, then at Peter, then at Tony again, and he wonders what he’s missing.

He wonders how it’s possible that Peter has Tony wrapped around his little finger, and not only that. But the way they both look at each other...it’s like--

“Are you his dad?” Ricky blurts, and then flushes furiously. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I said that. I’ll just--”

“Yeah,” Tony says, putting his sunglasses back on, an arm slung around Peter to support his weight. “That’s me. Dad.”

Peter laughs, then winces, then wilts. “Ugh. Can we go already, Tony? You can be my dad after you get me painkillers.”

Ricky, speechless, can only follow as the two make their way out.

-

“I’m really sorry for scaring you,” Peter says, an hour later, on his bed in the new Avengers Facility. “I should probably tell you that I’m Spider-Man, and I get stabbed maybe twice a week. So really, nothing was out of the norm. But I’m still sorry you had to see that.”

Maybe Ricky should be used to surprises by now, but for some reason, he wasn’t expecting that one.

“You’re Spider-Man,” Ricky says, “And Tony Stark is your dad. And maybe I should stop being so surprised by these things.”

“Okay, well, Tony isn’t actually my dad. But I do love him a lot, and at this point, yeah, he’s a parental figure. Oh! Also, you can’t tell anyone I’m Spidey. And, also, also, just so you know,” Peter frowns, “I really am sorry for all this.”

Ricky’s just about to open his mouth to tell Peter that it’s fine, really, when Tony once again shows up unannounced (although, to be fair, this is his building), this time with a juice box and sandwich in hand, and a cranky looking guy trailing behind.

“Happy!” Peter calls, looking overjoyed. The man who’s supposedly called Happy looks anything but, but then his eyes settle on Peter, and his expression softens.

It’s universally accepted that Peter Parker is ridiculously lovable.

“C’mon kid. Sit up so you can drink your juice,” Tony says, helping Peter up. Peter starts to suck the life from the juice box, and Tony pats his head.

Peter’s more animated here, next to Tony stark. He smiles more, he laughs more, and he whines more. “Everything hurts,” he gripes when he’s forced to eat the sandwich, and Happy snorts.

“You got stabbed,” Happy deadpans, and Peter finger guns.

“Yes.”

“Eat your damn sandwich.”

Peter does.

Finding a spot next to Peter, Tony coaxes the kid to rest against him, and then pulls him in for a half-cuddle.

“Who’s that?” Happy points at Ricky, and Peter immediately looks uncomfortable, his smile dropping to something more awkward.

“Oh, that’s uh, May’s new boyfriend.”

Happy turns and leaves the room.

-

(When May breaks up with him a couple weeks later, Ricky understands. He thinks that maybe he’s more fit for a quieter life, anyway. 

Still, on the first Saturday of every month, he takes Peter out to grab lunch before dropping him off with Tony Stark, and Ricky thinks that Peter Parker is the bravest, strangest, and most magnetic kid he’s ever met.)


End file.
